The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1887-11-23

tween the rooms, that she might watch
both husband and son. Mr., Forrest sat
rigid and motionless, as If he was carved
in stone. but the boy slept Oh heavily.
Towards morning he began to move un-
easily in his seat, then raised his head
from the table and Strengthened himself
up. The mother, whose eyes had not
closed through the whole of that long
night, could almost see the terrified ex-
preston in his eyes when they fell on his
fathers grim figure opposite. lie rose
unstcadily to his feet.
''Stop, sir" said the father walking
to him. 81 have few words to say to
you"
What was said was in too low voice
for Mrs. Forrest to hear There were a
few brief questions, and when David
answered one of them, he hung his head
like a convicted criminal. Then she
heard her husbands stern voice for few
minutes longer and David half staggered
to the back door, opened it and passed
out.
Mrs. Forrest did not dare ask her hus-
band any questions but did not feel un-
easy when David did not appear at break
fast, She concluded he had gone to the
store, not wishing TO meet his father so
soon again. But when dinner-time came.
and he was sill absent, her fears were
| awakened, and she noticed her husband
cast uneasy glanees towards the door
.whever it was opened. She ut on her
bonnet alter dinner, ana went directly to
the store. Mr.. Rapp was standing at the
door,
Good d-evening, Mrs. Forrest " he
said. "Where on earth is David to-
day 2"
"Isn't he in the store ;" she asked,
with her heart beating like a sledge-
hammer.
Indeed, he isn't. He came in for q
minute early this morning, and handed
me a ten-dollar BILL and mumbled out
something about having forgotten to put
it in the till. couldn't make out what
he did say. He looked pale and sick, and
I'm sure ought TO have been in bed"
Without a word Mrs. Forrest hurried
home.
"What did you say to him 2" she
| cried, passionately, to her husband.
" You've been harsh and cruel TO him,
know, and now he's gone away, and |
shall never, never see my boy again J"
81 told him what / said would" he
| answered, coldly. zone more chance |
| gave him for amendment. Yes, told
him he was a disgrace, clinging dis
| grace, for didn't believe he would re-
form. gave him some money to replace
what he stole, and that was all. l don't
regret "A word ! said. Reproach your
own weakness. 1t isn't just to reproach
me. Since he has chosen to leave us, it
is perhaps the best thing he could do"
But though Mr.. Forrest spoke in this
manner, he spared neither money nor Ia
bor to gam some tidings of his son. They
traced him to a seaport town, and then
lost all trace as utterly as if the earth had
closed over him. AS months and years
rolled by, Mr.. Forrest gave up expectation
of ever seeing him again, but the mother
hoped still The father grew more silent
and sad. Time as it passed had taught him
that he had erred in the harshness and
bitterness with which he had treated his
son, and he would have liked to retract
some of his words. Misfortunes, too,
had pressed upon him. His crops had
failed three years in succession, he had
mortgaged his farm in order that he
might live and in few years there was
to he a foreclosure of the mortgage, and
the old place must pass out of his hands.
'It's no use striving any longer, Sarah
he said, drearily; 81 do not know where
te look for help, we must submit and
leave the old homestead Father was
! born here, as we'll as myself, and hoped
| to die in the house in which he died.
| Wen barely have roof over us at Myron
| Cottage, but at least it will be our own.
We didn't think much of it when your
aunt left it to you, and now it's our last
refuge"
at will outlast our time, James" she
said, sadly. "There's no one to come
after us, unless David comes home"
Mr. Forrest shook his head. He had
| long ceased to combat what he said was
| his wife's monomania about the return of
his son. She always insisted that in the
family devotions he should be prayed for
as still living, and with cruel pang the
father uttered the name of the boy he be-
lieved dead.
'It will be our last Thanksgiving din
ner on the old place" he said, the day
before Thanksgiving. "a lonely one in
deed. | wonder if in all the world there
is couple as lonely and as desolate as
we are"
She did not speak, but slipped her
hands in his. He pressed it warmly, the
faithful hand which had never wearied
in its tender care of HIN, and there the
old couple sat, silent and thoughtful.
| They did not need to speak. Each knew
of what the other was thinking. The
mother said in her heart, ''Dear Lord,
bring our boy back to u.s." The father
thought, Lord, help us TO bear patiently
the Affections that are bringing our gray
hairs with sorrow to the grave"
Thanksgiving Day dawned. 1t was a
dismal day. The rain poured, the wind
blew, the sodden leaves covered the earth,
the whole landscape was dreary.
"It's pretty dismal, isn't it, mother"
! said the old man. 'It's good thing
we don't expect guests in this storm.
Well, ! suppose we ought to be thankful
for a shelter this weather. and food
enough TO keep us from starving"
''Is that all we have, father2" asked
his patient wife. 1--WE have health and
hope"
''Iope of whatl" he asked, smiling
sadly. 81 think, my dear, you and
shook hands with hope long ago and bid
it farewell"
Hope of u home where all these long.
| ings and heartaches will be over o,
| - -. r.